Sunday, September 27, 2009

Today is my birthday -- again. Thank you to all who celebrated with me. I am so grateful. I've had the time of my life here in McKinney. I mean that with great sincerity. It's partying, networking, moving and shaking like I've never seen before in my life. I've thoroughly enjoyed it. I've worked my ass off with still so many other things left to do. I've accomplished so much and feel there's still so many more things to fulfill. I've danced and sang, and I still feel there's so much more to sing and dance about. The more I do, the more I want to do. The more I experience, the more experiences I want.

I've awakened after a very deep sleep in my marriage, and then my two short years of cocooning in Steamboat. It was truly an amazing healing process with the shamans I worked with and the family of friends I played with. I am so very, very grateful because when I moved to this town little did I know what the pace would be like on a regular basis. Fast speed has been the predominant speed. Steamboat for me didn't even know that pace existed.

It was slow, especially on the snowy mornings when I would scrape my windshield and brush the feet of snow off my car. (Okay, sometimes inches, but still...)

I am fifty-three this weekend. I turned the new number last night in a bar dancing with friends. Tonight I did the same thing with more friends and more fun. At one place there were disco lights flashing and every single person dancing on the dance floor was dressed to the nines in black. There were many pairs of boobs that didn't move. With my jeans and t-shirt on, I went through that tight circle of black high-end fashion plates and danced with abandon. I laughed and hugged and threw my arms wide open. I flung my head back and laughed. I shook my hair and moved my feet wildly. Those black suits/dresses just looked at me. I didn't have a care in the world. I danced with a man who mirrored my actions. We went crazy. And it was the best fun I've had. I let go and danced. I danced as if no one was watching, but I saw many pairs of eyes on me. I danced anyway. I had a hole in one knee while surrounded by designer black wear. I danced anyway. I was sober, coherent, and alive. I especially danced anyway.

I then went to where I knew I was with my people, a place where there were no designer wear, especially in black. There were jeans and t-shirts and I was grabbed and squeezed, kissed and hugged.

I work hard. I usually work seven days a week even, so to play this wildly for two days in a row, is just downright decadent.

But today is my birthday, and I deserve it. I also deserve to go to bed with my love's arms around me. I deserve to have him nearby so when the hour approaches meal time, he can walk through the spa door and pick me up in his arms and plant kisses on my mouth like he used to. I deserve to have him here with me, to sleep all night with him, to wake up with him, to eat regular meals with him. He used to tell me what a great cook he is. I left the state before he could prove it to me. He also told me he'd give me a massage. We never got to that either. Me being naked always led to something else.

Today is my birthday, and I deserve to wake up in the morning with him lying next to me and kissing me awake. I deserve to be able to look into his eyes more than once a year. I deserve to have him near me, to work with him nearby, and to dance with total abandonment in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by Armani suits and Vera Wang dresses. I deserve to be in his arms and melt into him because that's what I came here for. The trip I'm on now includes him, and I intend him near me because I can, because that's what I desire, because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am awesome without him here, and to have him near would make it all that much more full and magical and amazing.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

I've been having adventures with ladybugs lately. Well, one in particular.

It started one night when a friend stopped by the Gratitude Cafe/RejuveNation LifeSpa to see about going to Cadillac Pizza Pub. She needed to change clothes and drop off her dog. So, off we go to her house where she hands me a book that her landlord had written. I open the book and the first character's name I see is the last name of my guy in Steamboat. My friend sits next to me and I show her the name. I said wouldn't it be cool if I found out while flipping through the pages that his first name is the same as my guy's. As soon as I got that out of my mouth, I turned to a page and right above my thumb is "And his name will be ---------." And yes, it was the same as Bo's real name. Not that the character in the book has the same first and last name as Bo, but there are two characters closely connected throughout the book with both of Bo's names.

Now, I know there are many skeptics in the world who don't see their lives as orchestrated by some masterful maestro, but I don't happen to be one of those. I see my life as an amazing fabric intertwined with everything and everyone I encounter. As a matter of fact, I journaled about this fantastic experience I had had with Bo. As he was talking with me one night I could feel him. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, I could feel his energy wrapped up in mine. The best way I can describe it is quiet euphoria. It was tranquil and all encompassing. And it was the feeling of being home, my true home, a home I didn't know existed. I called it oneness in my journal entry. I wrote about how we were not separated by miles because we were one. I could feel him. I could smell him. He and I had merged and there was no separation. We were one. Period.

Now, back to my story. So my friend and I head to Cadillac's where the bartender brings me my Cabernet. As I sit there talking with friends, I look over at the glass and see something crawling along the outside of the glass. It was a ladybug. It flew from the glass to me. It crawled up my arm. Now what's really amazing about that is that we were in the back of the bar and it was packed with people. However, the ladybug got inside the bar, made its way through the mob and landed on my glass out of all the millions of places it could've landed.

I remembered that there was some kind of message about ladybugs in the movie Under theTuscan Sun, so this morning I slid in the DVD and watched.

The main character played by Diane Lane, a writer and newly divorced, moved to Tuscany to begin again. She buys a villa and sets about spiffing it up. She longs for people to fill it, but most importantly she desires an amazing love in her life. Her friend, Katherine, tells her that when she was young she searched and searched for ladybugs until she grew tired and laid down in the field of flowers. When she awoke she found ladybugs all over her. Katherine tells Diane that she needs to let go of the search, be happy right now, and what she desires will appear.

Throughout the movie her wishes do come true, unlike what she thinks, but still... In the last scene she walks around the wedding reception in her yard and is filled up with the love she has for all those present. She realizes her dreams did come true. She does have a family, and she did host a wedding at her house. She lays down on a chaise outside and closes her eyes when a man comes up to her speaking in broken Italian.

She tells him that yes, he found the American writer who lives in Tuscany, and it is she. He bends down and picks up something off her arm. "A ladybug," he tells her, and then says that she reviewed his first book that eventually led to his next book that he redid because of her criticism.

Now, I'm watching this scene. I see the ladybug being picked off her arm. I'm hearing that he's a writer, and I already know that she's a writer, and I'm seeing a lot of similarities between her life and mine (minus the Tuscan villa, but still Bo and I are writers). She asks him his name, and I immediately think oh my god, it can't be the same as Bo's. He says it's Ed. Whew! His name's Ed. Not even close.

This is what I'm thinking as the credits roll and the picture of Ed shows up with the actor's real name. You guessed it -- the same name as my Bo's real name.

I have no idea what any of this means, nor would I even attempt to figure it out. It all is whatever it is. I'm enjoying the stories as they play out, and thrilled to be a part of it all.

And one more thing, the novel that my friend's landlord wrote is published by the same company that's publishing mine.

Okay, and another one more thing -- the title of the book my friend's landlord wrote is One.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

A lot of people hate rain. I happen to love it. Love, love, love cloudy drizzly days. For some reason sun doesn't appeal to me so much, and lately there has been a lot of rain here in McKinney. I've been in heaven over it. Lovely times on the square with cool breezes and wet awnings. Okay, so we can't sit outside so much, but how much did I sit outside anyway? At night plenty. I love sitting outside after patients and clients have gone and it's just us girls sitting on the gliders outside the French doors talking or just sitting, watching people walk by, having some stop and talk before going on their way.

It's my front porch fetish. Many years ago I built a home with a wrap-around porch. I loved sitting out there almost more than anything else. I took the phone outside and talked with friends. I had my Coronas and lime while watching the sun go down in the back or watching my neighbors come home while sitting in the front. I tended to my roses and then came back to the porch to prop my feet up on the rail and watch the mountains past the field. Hawks would fly overhead. Roosters would noise up across the street, no matter what time of day it was.

And through it all, I planned my escape.

On September 11, 2006 I drove down my driveway in a packed car and a moving van following me. I haven't had a covered porch since.

Until now. And it's so much more fun. I've dealt with insurance companies out there, planned events, and sipped wine with friends. I've listened to the live music inside with the French doors wide open and speakers blasting it down the street.

There's something to be said for front porches. My next home would be lovely with a front porch with a swing where I could sit next to my sweetie, drink wine, kiss, and touch in oh so many ways. Ah, my next venture whenever that comes into play. Right now though, I'm focused on doing what I need to do today. Just today. Finish sending paperwork to our insurance billing agency, rewrite the lyrics to our theme song, reschedule the "Abbey Road" album cover photo shoot, and then go to Cadillac tonight to listen to some great music and dance. There's nothing like it.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Today I've been very sad. It doesn't happen to me very often. My daughter even asked me if I was mad at her. I'm not and never was. It's just so rare that I'm not bubbling with happiness and joy.

Today was different. Today was a culmination of many moments of sadness and all I wanted to do was cry a bit. There's nothing wrong with that. It's an honest and true emotion and I deserved it. I was sad for several reasons, and one I feel is a bit selfish because by my writing about it, I know it will be read by the person I most don't want to read it. I don't want him to be sidetracked by anything, especially me. He's on a roll. He's in the zone, and I want him to stay there. It's an amazing place to be. He's disciplined enough to put me in a compartment that he doesn't think about so he can focus on what he moved to Steamboat to do. I honor that. I so respect that, and still I put in writing something that might alter that just a little.

I'm sad because I'm not with him. I'm sad because I just want to crawl under the sheets and lay with him. There's no place like lying next to him, skin to skin and having his arms wrapped around me. He runs his fingers down my arm and kisses me. I slip a leg over his, and it's just the best feeling I can remember.

I write this knowing that he will probably read this. I also know that he is so disciplined that it won't sidetrack him. I am so happy for him I could just bust. He's doing what he loves. There's just nothing better. Well, maybe doing what he loves and making love with someone he loves would be a bit better.

I told him yesterday that if I had felt this way about him last October when I knew I was moving, I'm not sure a move would have occurred, and I know I am where I belong. So, it's a magnificent thing that I'm here and he's there, but it doesn't keep me from feeling sad sometimes.

If only I could look up from my desk and see him walking through the spa door. If I could walk around the square with him by my side. If we could sit on the couch in Rick's Chophouse bar and drink some wine while listening to Buzz sing. Oh, if only...

I can see him right now sitting in the library typing on his laptop sitting at the table where I first met him almost a year ago. Right now I'm wearing the shirt I had been wearing that day, October 7, 2008. I know what day it was because I opened up a journal of mine and it fell to the page where I was writing and then stopped the entry mid-sentence. Later I wrote that I stopped because a man sat at the table in front of me and we began a conversation. That wasn't all we began. He told me later that he knew when he first saw me that we would make love. Did I know that then? Hm, I know I had high hopes of that happening. I certainly thought about it during our first conversation.

I'm not sad anymore. I am so happy because I remembered that first day I laid eyes on him. I enjoy thinking about him. I relish the memories I have. He is an awesome lover. He told me the last night, actually the morning that I left for McKinney, that he wanted to give me a night I would never forget.

He did. But that's not all that's unforgettable. Neither is he. I even tried. I got involved with someone else, someone I just knew was "the one." Ha! He showed up in town one weekend from his home state and he showed me how disastrous he really was for me. He also showed me how little I really knew about what was good for me, because he truly was everything I thought I wanted. The moment I purged him from my life, I got a call from this kind, gentle, amazing man in Steamboat "out of the blue" and my heart longed for home. I just didn't ever see home as looking like him -- until that phone call.

From the bottom of my heart, I love you, Bo. I love you, I love you, I love you. And I want you to do everything that makes you happy, and if at any point that includes me, what an immense pleasure.

Friday, September 4, 2009

My life continues to amaze me. I met a man last fall right before moving to McKinney. I had been so focused on my new life in a new place that after a few weeks here, I hardly thought of him at all. Instead I chose to fill up my moments with new people and new adventures moment after moment after moment. I was not disappointed.

And lately, all that has shifted. His name shows up as a new friend's son's name, as a name being spoken on TV during my rare times of turning it on, and lastly on my Steamboat key ring that I had been given when first moving there three years ago. I looked at the ring and all the letters had been rubbed off but the two that spelled his name -- Bo.

And he reappeared last June right after an amazing purging of a relationship. Out of the blue, he called. We reconnected as if time had not elapsed since our last conversation six months earlier.

This relationship has been calm and nurturing, loving and so very, very kind. It's been peaceful and warm and oh so lovely. There's never been any drama or accusations or blame. God, it's just been so very, very wonderful. And because of that, because it's been so different from anything else I've ever had, I didn't put much stock in its lasting effect. It's been nearly a year since we first met, and it's still one of those amazing gifts that I enjoy opening over and over.

He recently presented me with one of those gifts during our phone conversations. In the midst of the conversation -- him being at the OldeTown Pub in Steamboat Springs, Colorado drinking and watching some game on the screen, he uttered these words so smoothly: I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words flowed to me like a sweet wisp of a cloud. From head to toe, I felt his energy, and it just felt good. The words were this continual stream of effortless energy that flowed back and forth between us. Ahhh...it was that easy for someone to love me and me love him back. It was just that easy. No explosive fireworks or clanging bells or oh my god he said those three words. It was just warm, sweet, wonderful, and very, very right. It felt like something that I had been waiting for all along that showed up even though I didn't know I was missing it.

When we told each other how we felt, how we missed each other, how we loved each other, it was as if the whole of me became even fuller, more saturated with ease and grace. I felt more capable of loving others. I felt freer to love all more openly.

This is what I've never felt before with another man, the ability to love larger, to love more about others, to freely express my feelings and emotions about anyone and not be hindered or scrutinized.

To love Bo is freeing, free-flying, floating free. It's limitless, airless, and oh so easy. Why did I not recognize this until now? Maybe I was never truly ready for ease until now. Now it's crazy if it's not easy, and I've discovered that real ease is between my ears no matter what's going on around me.